


Injured

by martianapplecrumble



Series: Of cold Witcher, and the warm one that melted his heart [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (perhaps?), Fluff, Hand & Finger Kink, Lambert is in love, M/M, Minor Injuries, Smut, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Tending to injuries, Winter At Kaer Morhen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martianapplecrumble/pseuds/martianapplecrumble
Summary: Lambert felt the sharp blade slide along both of his palms. It wasn't as sharp as their regular swords, these were meant for training after all and not combat, but it still stung, to the point of Lambert going down to the rock floor, staring at his bleeding hands. Two long, clear cuts, one end matching with the other.Eskel accidentally hurts Lambert during their winter training. It all turns out well at the end.
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Series: Of cold Witcher, and the warm one that melted his heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868587
Comments: 11
Kudos: 91





	Injured

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, I've changed the format of this so now this is a series! 🌻  
> In this part Eskel and Lambert are already adults (maybe a little younger than game-age).

"C'mon, Lambert! Move!"

Lambert jumped to the side, dodging the blow of the sword in Eskel's hands. Training was one of the parts of wintering at Kaer Morhen, as it helped witchers to stay in shape during these slow, relaxing months. And it was also a sort of a game for them, like two wolves fighting and biting for fun.

Lambert liked this. As it was now his choice, and not something he was forced to do or needed to do to save his life, sword fighting was quite fun. Helped him unwind in a way. And Eskel was his favourite person to clash swords with. Maybe just because he just liked being around him. Or maybe because he liked Eskel. Not that anyone would ask him, anyway.

Eskel might look big and heavy-built, but Lambert was not to be fooled: he knew that Eskel was not only strong but also quick and agile. The black-haired witcher did a swift step back, attempting to counter-attack Eskel and instead hitting his sword with his own.

They were both heated, in spite of the cold temperature, breathing heavily as they fought, and fuck, did Eskel look good like that, his cheeks and nose flushed deep pink from the adrenaline and fight, his thick lips just a little open, white puffs of air escaping them.

Oh shit. He really shouldn't have let himself get distracted like that, because the next blow of Eskel's sword made him drop his own weapon, too struck by the looks of the other witcher.

Fuck. That was just stupid.

Eskel, probably instinctively, has already set his sword for another attack, and Lambert, disarmed, too carried away by his embarrassment and simply staring at Eskel before, could only think of raising his hands in defence.

And it all happened too fast. Eskel didn't even have time to stop.

Lambert felt the sharp blade slide along both of his palms. It wasn't as sharp as their regular swords, these were meant for training after all and not combat, but it still stung, to the point of Lambert going down to the rock floor, staring at his bleeding hands. Two long, clear cuts, one end matching with the other.

"Oh, fuck," Lambert heard. A sound of a sword being dropped to the ground, steel clinking as it hit the stone. Then, Eskel's warm hands on his wrists, holding him.

"Lamb- fuck, I am sorry, I am so sorry-"

" 's fine, Esk. Not your fault," Lambert tried to reassure him, feeling the sting in his palms again, sharply this time.

" 's mine. Should've known," Eskel whispered. "C'mon, let's go clean them."

Strong hands catching him just under the arms, helping him stand up. Lambert felt sort of light-headed, feeling Eskel's strength, his ability to just lift him up like he weighs nothing making a soft warmth form in his lower belly.

"I've had it worse, you know? Like that time a fucking griffin tore my shoulder, or the time when that bandit sliced my thigh-"

"I know. And that doesn't mean your cuts don't deserve care," Eskel stopped him halfway, leading him inside the castle.

That was one of the things which made him soft like butter inside when he was near Eskel, Lambert thought as he walked. His care. How he always cared about him, his emotions, his injuries and his words, no matter how stupid they seemed to him. Lambert often caught himself wondering how one person could fit so much kindness and compassion inside them. Eskel's heart must be big as fuck to hold all of that.

Even his own little one absorbed enough of that kindness to fall head over heels in love with Eskel. Screw that, but it was true.

***

Lambert loved how Eskel's hands worked, with precision and care but also with that confidence in every movement. That always made him feel safe, made him know he'll be alright as long as it's Eskel taking care of him.

He watched warm calloused hands clean his wounds, removing the blood which oozed down from them, biting his lip when the cuts stang painfully due to the spirit being poured on them. He watched still as Eskel's thick, long fingers put some healing salve on the wounds, caressing just a little, making a small mewl form at the base of Lambert's throat.

He kept watching as Eskel's hand got a hold of his wrist, gentle yet firm, the other wrapping bandages around his own injured palm. And even that simple, seemingly necessary tending to made Lambert's heart swell. Eskel was just that good at taking care.

No wonder his goats loved him so much. Even though they say goats cannot love. Does that make goats witchers in a way?

"That's it," Eskel murmured, his voice rough yet soft as he lightly patted the back of one of Lambert's bandaged hands. "Sorry again for hurtin' you."

"That's fine, I already told you!" Lambert said firmly, smiling a little at Eskel - and mind you, his smile wasn't something he gave to fucking anyone.

Happiness bubbled in his chest as he saw Eskel smile back, that scar on his cheek crinkling just a little as the corners of his lips moved up.

What Lambert didn't expect though was Eskel taking his hands ever so gently, flipping them and pressing his lips to each bandage.

Lambert felt his breath hitch as blood rushed to his cheeks. Whoever said witchers don't blush had clearly never met a witcher. Or maybe didn't fucking show them enough kindness to make them blush.

"Take care," Eskel whispered, his voice barely audible over the loud thump of Lambert's heart, and before Lambert had the chance to get a damn grip on himself, he was out of the room. Just Eskel being Eskel, not only strong but quick.

Fuck, and what the fuck he was supposed to make of it?

Lambert fell back on his bed, his mind full of Eskel and his palms tingling for a whole another reason now.

It was probably just another way of showing care, even though Eskel had never done this to him before. And yet, Lambert couldn't stop the lovesick expression which plastered its way onto his face.

Fucking Eskel.

***

They say many things about witchers. Witchers don't blush, witchers don't feel, witchers don't love, witchers don't show mercy, witchers don't this and witchers don't that. Do they also say witchers don't masturbate, Lambert wondered as he lay in his bed at early morning, pink rays of sunrise falling onto his bed from the narrow window in the cold stone wall.

He awoke from a rather heated dream, which might have involved Eskel. And which, perhaps, included Eskel leaving kisses up his arms and all over his body, at last pressing their lips together - and fuck, that was just fantastic and Lambert might've even groaned a little. Not that he would tell anyone anyway. Not that anyone would ask.

He shifted a little, his arm going down to lazily palm at the bulge which formed in his underwear. He couldn't exactly help it, because well, if anyone ever said witchers never feel horny, that was also a damn lie. Especially if it's after they had a dream with someone they've been in love with for two decades.

Screw people, for not knowing shit about witchers and pretending they are a walking encyclopedia on them. Most humans were just so fucking self-centered.

Lambert thought of his dream once again, untying his too-tight underwear and slipping in a hand - only to give a yelp of pain as he tried to wrap it around his prick.

Ah yes, the fucking cuts.

Great. Just fucking awesome.

Lambert let out a frustrated growl, his head digging into the pillow as he tried to will his erection away. He doesn't exactly want to walk around with a tent in his pants, does he?

And then he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Lamb, it's me, Eskel. You awake?"

"Yeah, I am. Come in."

Well, thank fuck he wasn't touching himself right now. Would've been embarrassing.

Especially because Eskel came in with nothing on but his underwear and his infamous red jacket. Which nearly made Lambert groan, the open jacket giving him quite a view of the other's broad chest, heavily freckled, strong well-built body and that slight swell of his stomach that always made something curl at the bottom of Lambert's belly.

Fuck, an already horny witcher could only take so much.

Lambert swallowed, thickly, forcing himself to stop ogling and open his damn mouth. "Why'd you come?"

"Wanted to check on you before breakfast," Eskel mused, sitting down onto the side of Lambert's bed. "If you're awake, that's it. And you are."

"Esk, I'm fine. 'S just a cut," Lambert reassured him once again.

"Still wanna make sure," Eskel insisted. "Show me your hands?"

Hoping that Eskel's wouldn't smell his arousal on his bandages, Lambert sat up on the bed and showed him his hands. Eskel moved closer, holding them gently, carefully tracing the bandages with his trumbs.

And fuck, now Lambert wanted to mewl again. Just from that.

"They still hurt?" Eskel asked quietly, looking at Lambert's face.

"They- yeah, a bit. But 's fine. It'll heal soon," Lambert managed, shifting a little. It was just so fucking hard to focus on anything other that Eskel's appearance or the warmth of his hands or-

And there he was, kissing his palms. Again.

A soft press of his lips over each of the bandages, then another, and another. Lambert's breath caught in his throat as he watched Eskel make his way up, kissing his wrists, then the scar on his lower arm where a drowner scratched him on his first contract.

Lambert let all his thoughts go. He'll have plenty of time for that later. For now he just closed his eyes, relishing in every touch of these soft, almost plush lips.

This couldn't be happening. Not in real life.

But Eskel was there, his presence felt by Lambert with every sense he had, the sound of his breathing, the scent of firewood and herbs, the kisses- oh fuck, the kisses.

"Didn't mean to hurt you. Never wanna hurt you..."

Eskel moved even closer to him, never letting go of Lambert's hands, until one moved to cradle Lambert's cheek, stroking it so tenderly that Lambert sighed, leaning into the touch and letting himself melt.

"Gonna kiss you," Eskel whispered, his lips close to his ear, letting a shiver run down his spine.

Eskel wants to kiss him. It's actually happening. It is.

"Then kiss me already," Lambert let the words slide off his mouth, barely audible and impatient, and then Eskel's lips were on his and oh fuck it, it was just perfect.

Way fucking better that in the dream.

Lambert returned the kiss, his head spinning, already hungry for more, feeling that tingly pleasant feeling in his chest. He wrapped his arms around Eskel's shoulders, pressing himself close to him, basking in his warmth and tasting these plump, plush lips he wanted to kiss for so long.

He caught Eskel's bottom lip with his own and sucked, coaxing a low moan out of the other witcher. His prick throbbed at the sound, Lambert's whole body nearly alight with need.

Lambert let Eskel's tongue into his mouth, let these amazing, warm hands wander all over his body, choking on his own moans. These hands could burn, and did it in the most pleasant way possible.

Lambert only pulled away when one of Eskel's palms made its way down his stomach, and he looked at Eskel with unseeing eyes, panting heavily.

And fuck, Eskel's face looked hot, his pupils blown wide and this lips red and puffy from the kissing. Fuck, how much Lambert wanted to kiss them again; now that he got a taste of them, he never wanted to stop feeling them, tasting them.

"Esk," he managed to say, his voice raspy with arousal. "Please-"

"Want me to help you with that?.." Eskel whispered in his ear, low and hoarse, and Lambert felt his hand cover the bulge in his underwear, nearly burning it - and oh fuck, that felt so sweet.

"Yeah," Lambert panted, raising his hips to rub at the palm so slightly, letting out a quiet moan at the friction. "Touch me-"

And Eskel, sweet Eskel, didn't waste much time in pulling Lambert's underwear down and wrapping his hot hand around Lambert's hard prick. Lambert couldn't help but thrust into the welcoming palm, letting out a helpless whimper he should probably be ashamed of.

And then, Eskel started moving his hand up and down, jerking Lambert off in steady movements, the warmth around his length almost unbearable. Lambert wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him desperately, panting into his mouth as his toes curled from so much pleasure.

"Lamb- Lambert," Eskel's voice was so rough by now that it made Lambert shiver, a bead of precome running down his shaft. "Mind if I-?"

Lambert felt Eskel move closer to him, and then a hot fucking cock was pressing to his own flushed prick and-

"Keep going," Lambert breathed out, desperately needing his lips on Eskel's as the other witcher wrapped his hand around their joined lengths, stroking the heads with his thumb and smearing precome. Lambert moaned, his prick coaxed to nearly burning as he pressed his lips to Eskel's again, pushing his tongue into Eskel's mouth.

He was fucking intoxicated by kissing Eskel, more than from any witchers' elixir.

And then it was not one but two hands around their dicks, moving up and down, trapping Lambert in such an unbearable, slick warmth that he mewled in Eskel's mouth, trying to lick even deeper, needing more of Eskel as he felt that delicious clench at the bottom of his stomach.

Eskel let out a loud groan, his tongue wrapping around Lambert's, and that was all it took for Lambert to come, holding on to Eskel for dear life as a huge wave of bliss ran through his entire body.

He barely registered Eskel shuddering against him, his cock throbbing against Lambert's as he came.

And even after such moment of pure bliss, Eskel's arms still managed to catch him as he fell forward, holding him close as Lambert gasped for air, completely breathless and his lips raw from kissing.

The one person he could always trust.

***

The two of them didn't get out of the bed until well into afternoon, and Lambert was just perfectly content with lying under the covers with his warm Eskel, pressed to his chest and exchanging kisses and sweet words.

They say that witchers don't love, and that's because they've never met Eskel.

Because no person Lambert knew had as much love in them as Eskel. So much that it crept under his skin and seeped deep into his heart, and stayed there.

And how could he not see how much Eskel loved him all this time?

Lambert remembered that, years and years after, every time Eskel kissed two long, thin scars that ran across the inside of his palms, one end matching the other.


End file.
